


Looking Wrongs

by saraid



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Adultery, But I don't think she'd mind, I'm Sorry, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraid/pseuds/saraid
Summary: Charles sent Cyclops to keep an eye on Logan - but maybe he needs more than that.





	Looking Wrongs

**Author's Note:**

> The song used is Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls.

"I can't believe you let him take my motorcycle." Almost pouting, Scott  
Summers stalked into the Professor's office. It was late, the other teachers  
were upstairs getting the kids settled. Two and four to a room, they were inclined to chatter and giggle the way teenagers did, and needed supervision to get them all to sleep.

"I knew he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation." Coming from around his desk, Charles Xavier looked tired. He still hadn't recovered fully from the mental blast he'd taken when he'd used Cerebro after Magneto had Mystique tamper with it. The last thing Scott wanted to do was add to his worries, so he forced a smile and quit whining.

"It would just burn his butt if he knew you'd planned it that way."

"Well, he doesn't and I'd rather he didn't find out. We need to keep an eye on him, but if he's aware of it we'll just drive him further away."

Sitting neatly in an armchair, Scott laced his fingers and stared pensively out the window for a moment.

"I know you don't like him, but all jokes aside, Logan is a man on the verge of a crisis. He's run too hard, for too long. I don't know how much longer he can keep this up."

"And what happens when he blows?" Scott asked, leaning forward, speaking urgently. "I can't help but feel we've let a dangerous man loose, that we've sent a wolf in among the lambs. You heard what he did to Mystique - if the ambulance hadn't gotten to her she would have died, and he didn't even mention it to us!"

"What would you have done, Scott?" Xavier turned his chair sharply and snapped at him. "Abandoned the mission, abandoned Rogue? Sacrificed everyone in New York City?"

"I would have left her alone. It would have been a hard choice, but it would have been a choice. He didn't even think twice." 

"I do not think Logan values life so cheaply." Xavier paused, his eyes searching Scott's face. The younger man wondered what he saw there, that made him relax and breathe more easily. "You are not angry with Logan -  
you're angry with yourself. Why, Scott? The mission was a success. Magneto is safely locked away. And if Mystique is still free, at least she's doing us no damage with her current masquerade." 

"It's Jean." He ducked his head, and mumbled.

"You fear that she feels something for him."

"He's just so - so - basic."

"So different from you, you mean." 

He looked up and met Xavier's eyes.

"I think he makes her feel like she can do things, and I don't. As team leader I'm always holding her back - protecting her."

"You and Jean have been together since you were very young. It's only natural that she would be curious when someone as primal as Logan comes along. His attention is very focused, it would have to be flattering." Charles patted Scott on the back, passing him. "You should go spend some time making her forget him, because you're hitting the road tomorrow as well." 

Scott groaned loudly.

"You're not going to make me?" He covered his face with his hands. Xavier looked back over his shoulder as he opened the door.

"Someone must be there when he loses control. You're the only one who has the power to stop him if it comes to that."

Scott got up and followed Xavier out of the room, shaking his head.

"Just think how much Jean will admire you for it."

"That is not funny."

***

"Xavier's school for the gifted, gifted child speaking!" 

"Very funny, Jubilee - get the Professor for me."

With his back to the wall in the dingy club, Scott tried to keep his head down while still watching the man he was following. With his senses it didn't seem possible that Logan didn't know he was there, but there was a blizzard blowing up outside and he wasn't going to stand out in it when he could be inside and warm. Of course, if he let Logan slip his tail they could always pick him up again, as they'd done several times already; between the tracking device he'd planted on the motorcycle and Cerebro it wasn't likely Logan was going to fall off the face of the earth.

But the other man had been traveling steadily for two weeks, barely stopping to eat or drink, or sleep, and when he did sleep it was usually on the ground, beside the cycle, sometimes in the snow. Even Scott was worried about him at this point. Scott had been getting hotel rooms - he had one waiting down the street, for whenever Logan went to ground for the night or he got tired of watching him drink.

"This is Charles. Scott, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. How's Jean?"

"She's fine. Everyone is well. Where is Logan?"

"On the other side of this cave they call a club." Scott waved a hand in front of his face in a doomed effort to clear a bit of the smoke. With his visor on it looked like a pink cloud. "He's too far away to see me, and he seems to be set on drinking himself into a coma."

"With his healing factor that could be quite a trick."

"Yeah. Look, Professor, I'm going to get myself a room, I don't think he's going anywhere for the night. Can I talk to Jean for a minute?" He turned a  
little while he talked and stared over at Logan. Two women were approaching the table - they looked like prostitutes or close enough, and he was mildly surprised when the man waved them off gruffly without even a word.

Nursing a broken heart, Logan? Good. Because she's mine and she's going to stay mine. You'll never be what she needs.

The man at the table poured the last shot from a glass of whiskey and slammed it back, then raised his hand for another. The bartender, a big, bulky man in biker leathers, brought it over himself, and there was a terse exchange that made Scott straighten up and pay attention, though he couldn't hear the words. Then Logan pulled a handful of bills from his pocket and passed them over and Scott relaxed as the bartender handed him a new bottle.

"Scott? I was just running a simulation - the Professor thinks I'm ready to start training to use Cerebro on my own!" His Jean sounded so sweet, so happy.

It made him ache to hear her and be so far away.

"That's great, sweetheart. You're going to do great." He was afraid that she was pushing herself too hard, that she was going to hurt herself.... "I've got my eye on your favorite Canadian."

"How is he? Is he alright?" 

"He's currently drowning his sorrows, one bottle at a time." Scott sneered.

"Scott." She didn't sound happy anymore and he winced, wishing he'd kept that to himself. "You don't know what he's been through. You don't know what they did to him - what they took away."

"You're right. I'm being judgmental and priggish." He agreed. "I just can't imagine anyone falling this far voluntarily. I don't think he's bathed in the last week."

"Think about that he must be going through. If he finds out who he is - what does that mean to him? How old is he? Where is his family? Have they all died while he was wandering? What if he was a criminal to begin with?"

Like he's not now? That man's a killer looking for a victim, Scott thought, but wisely did not speak it aloud.

"Scott, they drank champagne. The men in the suits and uniforms, they watched while the doctors began cutting him open, and they drank champagne to celebrate the experiment."

Oh, dear god. What kind of people had done this?

He looked over at Logan again. The new bottle was half-empty. 

"We all have our burdens, Jean." He said softly, gently reminding her that   
none of them had had easy lives. To live without ever actually seeing her face - that was his burden.

The jukebox in the back was playing, and the song ended, and another came on, and he wondered who had started it. The chorus was plaintive but the words hit home. Logan tilted his head back and drained another glass, hanging his head over the back of the chair and apparently listening.

And I don't want the world to see me -  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.  
When everything's made to be broken,  
I just want you to know who I am

"Jean, I've go to go. I want to get him out of here before he gets into any  
trouble." He wasn't sure what drunken Logan would do, or what he was going to do, but suddenly skulking about in the shadows and just following him didn't seem good enough.

"Scott, what are you going to do?" She sounded worried, and with good reason, he guessed, because if she didn't know what he certainly didn't.

"I'm going to quit following him and help him. Tell the Professor I'll be in touch."

"Scott, wait, let me - Scott? Scott!"

"Jean - I love you." He hung up feeling terribly guilty. The Professor could contact him telepathically if he tried, but he suspected that he wouldn't. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised if this was what Xavier had intended all along.

Only he'd made it Scott's choice instead of forcing it on him. 

A cloud of cigar smoke puffed above Logan's upturned face and hung there.

His free hand crawled over the table looking for the bottle. A line from the song caught Scott's attention.

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

"Logan." Had he ever said the man's name without frustration or anger before? Without mocking him? Yes, he had a hard life in some ways, but nothing to compare to this. Logan was probably seventy years older than Scott, but in many ways he was a teenager, an adolescent; a man lost from himself.

"What the fuck you doing here, Cyke? Come ta claim yer scoot?" The rough head tilted back down and bloodshot eyes blinked at him. Apparently he could get drunk if he tried hard enough. "It's out front."

"I came to see if you needed any help." He winced, that wasn't the way he'd meant to put it. 

Logan stared for a moment and then gave a bark of laughter.

"Yeah, right."

"No. I mean it. I want to help you."

"I travel alone." With one hand on the table for balance Logan pushed himself up then swayed for a minute. He grabbed the bottle and waved it before taking a deep gulp. "Go home, pretty boy. I've got a mission of m' own."

Scott watched him with pity in his eyes. He knew that would make Logan angry, so he tried to hide it, but that didn't keep him from feeling it.

"Fuckin' kid." Logan snarled.

And I don't want the world to see me -  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.  
When everything's made to be broken,  
I just want you to know who I am.

"There's a hotel a couple of blocks over - will you let me take you there?"  
he asked, standing. The bartender was approaching, looking concerned and  
possibly angry. Logan's voice rose.

"I don't need yer help, kid, or yer goddamned professor's! Git outta my life already!"

"We gonna have a problem here?" The man had a baseball bat. Scott almost flinched, imagining what damage Logan could do if he was threatened.

"No, no problem. I'm getting him out of here."

Outburst faded, Logan was standing, swaying. He nuzzled the mouth of the bottle and swigged down a few more swallows. Scott approached him cautiously, wondering what these people thought of his sunglasses, and bent to look into Logan's face.

He put an arm around the man's shoulders, hesitantly; an act of faith. Faith in what the professor and Jean believed, because he didn't believe for himself.

"Come on, Logan, let's find you a bed for the night."

"Nobody in it but me, what's the fuckin' point?" Logan drawled, his dark  
eyes showing a bare hint of awareness. He accepted the arm and leaned into

Scott when he began to steer him out the door. "I'm okay, kid, you can back off now. Go home and play hero and leave me alone."

Someone had played that song twice and it began again as they made their way out, Logan half-staggering and Scott hard-pressed to keep him upright.

The older man seemed somehow frail. Beaten. But why now? He had a chance, a lead.

Maybe Jean was right; he possibility of discovering the truth was more  
frightening than living with the not knowing. 

And you can't fight the tears that ain't comin'  
Or the moment of truth in your lies.  
When everything feels like the movies,  
yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.

And I don't want the world to see me,  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken,  
I just want you to know who I am.  
I just want you to know who I am.  
I just want you to know who I am.

The music followed them out into the bitter cold night and Scott felt his eyes sting and cursed himself for acting like a melodramatic adolescent. He should know better than that. He did know better.

Logan was no longer protesting, but he held himself stiff, not touching Scott any more than he had to.

"Just let me get you warm and fed and I'll call us even." He told him when they got to the SUV he'd rented. It astounded him that Logan could ride that bike in this weather without killing himself, healing or no. "My ego needs it."

"Yer ego needs a swift kick in the ass." Logan replied but he climbed into the passenger seat and collapsed there without further complaint, sucking at the almost-empty bottle like a baby. Scott got in. Started it, and drove down the street, trying to see through the drifting snow.

He'd get him cleaned up, warm, make him eat something. Then, if Logan really wanted him to, he'd leave him alone - but he'd keep following him.

Wherever this journey took them, he had a feeling he'd be needed at the end. 

It was kinda nice to feel that way - it had been a while since he really felt needed. The team ran smoothly, the school did too. Sometimes he felt superfluous. He wasn't the best teacher, though he liked the kids and they liked him well enough. He knew Jubilee called him 'Stickman' behind his back, a reference to what she perceived as his stuffy nature.

*** 

The hotel was nice, and the doorman looked askance when Scott walked in, half-propping Logan up. The shorter man glared at the doorman and he looked away quickly. In the elevator Scott leaned Logan against the side and stepped away to give him some room, but then he had to help him down the hall to the room, where he sat the older man on one of the two beds.

Then he bit back a snicker as Logan flopped down, a distinctively  
un-Wolverine-like movement, and Scott sat on his own bed, propping his  
elbows on his knees and contemplating the older man. The much older man, if Jean's calculations were correct.

He wondered sometimes how she could think so little of herself. She'd  
survived medical school, four years of a ridiculously difficult schedule between the team and her studies, she'd always been the stable one, but it seemed like she still felt like the fourteen-year-old girl that had been able to see too much too soon. Perhaps that was why she was attracted to Logan; he'd obviously seen far too much as well. 

Maybe they had more in common than he wanted them to.

"Ya look like yer best friend ate yer dog." Logan's accent was thickened by the amount of alcohol he'd drank. Scott decided that it was odd that his vaunted healing power didn't sober him up. But he wasn't really hurt until he poisoned himself, was he? "She still loves you best."

"Jean?" Scott was startled. He leaned over and Logan's eyes opened. They stared at each other.

"I'd never git a skirt that special." Logan rolled to his side and half-curled on the bed. "She needs a man, not a' yella brick road reject." 

"You're a brave man, Logan." It felt even stranger to say that, to attempt to reassure this man. "You kept your promise to Rogue, kept her safe."

"Let Maggie snatch her first." Thick arms stretched over Logan's head,  
hands restlessly opening and closing, idly rubbing at knuckles divided by the claws that, it seemed to Scott, ruled his life. He wondered if the pain of their extrusion lingered at those spots that experienced it so often.

"That wasn't your fault. We misread the situation. If we had known he  
wanted her, we would have protected her better."

"I promised. You didn't." One knee raised, foot flat on the bed, the other stretched. He looked taller lying down.

"We all promised, and we were all wrong. But we saved her and everything turned out okay." Unsure about what he was supposed to do, Scott leaned over, there was only about a foot between the two beds, and put his hand on the bed beside Logan's head, meaning to offer comfort, not knowing if it would be welcomed. Not sure really why he felt he needed to make the offer.

It could be that he was just the nice guy he'd always thought he was. It had always felt like everyone else thought so too.

It irked him that he wanted Logan to think otherwise, and he didn't  
understand why either way.

"Whuzzat?" Logan blinked at his hand, then at him, his eyes first widening, then narrowing It seemed he was thinking.

"I am trying to communicate my willingness to provide you with some  
comfort." Scott said as lightly as he could. "You don't seem to be getting the message."

"You want ta comfort me?" Logan pushed up on one elbow and glared  
at him. Stubbornly, Scott did not move his hand.

"Is that such a bad thing? You're hurting, you're alone, and I'm here. I can get you something to eat, some coffee, something for the headache you're going to have..." Scott trailed off when the other man began to snicker. It quickly became a guffaw as Logan rolled to his back and flung his arms wide.

"You - coffee - oh, shit, I am pathetic here... comfort - *snort* -"

Not understanding at all, Scott withdrew his hand and sat on his bed, watching, feeling embarrassed and angry and not sure why. Not sure what he had done to earn this treatment. 

"What did you think I meant?" He ventured after the laughter died down, when Logan was once again just lying on the bed, eyes closed, breathing hard.

"You don't wanna know." It was dismissive, and that made him more  
angry.

"You think you know everything." He snapped, standing and leaning over the bed, the better to shout at him. "You don't know shit about me or my life! Quit making assumptions based off how I look and who I love and tell me what the hell you thought I was suggesting!" 

"This." Both large rough hands came up and grabbed his face and Scott  
scarcely had time to draw a breath before Logan arched off the bed and his  
mouth covered Scott's completely.

It wasn't a nice kiss or a gentle one. It was all pressure and heat and need that Scott discovered when he was pushed over onto his back and Logan crawled over on top of him and lay on him and kissed him harder, his arms going around Scott to hold him tightly, trapping his own arms beneath Logan's, and he was too shocked to protest, at first, and then he felt the hard, heavy proof of desire against his belly and realized that he was hard too, and that he'd never felt anything like this; Logan's weight and strength holding him down, the need that emanated from the older man, and the heat that was rising between them.

"Mmm - no, no, Logan, stop - no -" He struggled and for a moment it  
seemed that this would be rape, if it were going to happen at all, but then Logan sat up, straddling him, freeing him from the kiss, and he lowered a hand to Scott's groin and roughly felt the hardness there.

"This is what I thought you was offerin', kid." He drawled. His eyes were almost black with arousal, the pleasant brown swallowed up, and he breathed heavily. "Is this what you meant by comfort?" He leered and Scott was offended, and angry. Did the man think he was some kind of virgin, that he would be frightened by this display of base passion?

"I can take anything you can dish out." He growled back, startled by how good it felt to get angry at this man, to let it show.

"A challenge!" Logan sounded delighted. "Let's just see which of us is the better man." 

He undid the snap and zip of Scott's jeans and rooted around the front of them, not being careful about it. Scott winced as hairs were pulled but then Logan had his cock, was pulling it into the refrigerated air of the room and he was hard and throbbing and he wanted Logan to touch him more.

"Not bad at all, m'friend." Logan sat back on his heels, holding Scott's cock in one hand and studying it as if it were a puzzle piece he needed to make fit. "I can see why Jeanie's so hot fer you."

"Leave her out of this." He couldn't even say her name, the enormity of  
what he was doing beginning to register. Would she forgive him, if she found out? Would Logan use that against him to get her for himself? What kind of man was he that he had someone like her at home; sweet, passionate, loving, and here he was on this bed with this animal?

He expected some sort of comeback from Logan, but the older man  
didn't say anything, surprisingly. Instead he leaned down and sucked Scott's  
cock into his mouth as far as he could, and Scott shouted and then bit his lip, trying to restrain the noises he wanted to make, and it was maybe the best thing he'd ever felt.

Logan worked him quickly, without fanfare, sucking and bobbing like a  
pro, which made Scott wonder, just for a minute, where he'd learned that, and then it seemed like his world was going to turn inside out and then Logan - stopped.

"What?! Don't -" He moaned, too far gone to care what he sounded like, reaching for the other man with both hands, trying to arch enough to get  
some pressure on his aching cock, alone and bereft, standing straight out of his pants.

"Hang on, kid." Logan slipped from the bed and dropped his clothes a piece at a time. There was no attempt to be seductive, they were just in the  
way. By the time he got to his boxers Scott was following suit, flinging his shirt and jeans and undershirt and various underthings across the room, not caring where they landed. Then he was nude, and Logan was nude. Scott caught a glimpse of heavily furred, stark musculature and then Logan was lifting the covers and sliding into the bed and he scrambled under them himself and Logan was turning onto his stomach and looking over his shoulder and growling at him.

"There should be some shit in the bathroom that'll work."

Work for what?

Logan lifted on his knees and rubbed his ass against Scott's still-throbbing cock and it registered, he understood, but he didn't understand.

"What? You want me to - I don't, I've never -"

"I know that, kid, so you get ta be on top. But hurry your ass up before I change my mind and nail you to the mattress."

To be inside this man? To leash that power, that rage for his own satisfaction? The thought sent hot spikes of desire through Scott. He got up, as gracefully as he could manage, and stalked to the bathroom, so hard that it hurt to walk.

There was shower gel there, in a cute little bottle, and he grabbed it, thinking it would be slippery enough, and then he caught sight of himself in the long mirror.

His mouth was swollen and puffy at the corners. His sunglasses were crooked.

His cock stuck out from his body at an insistent angle.

He stared, wishing he could meet his own eyes. Wondering again what they looked like at this moment. When he wanted someone this badly.

What the hell was he doing?

Was it wrong? There, that was a more reasonable question. There was no way he could answer the first one right now.

He wasn't sure. They were both adults, and he wasn't a person that discriminated against people who liked the same sex, for whatever reason. So it wasn't wrong because of that. He was in a relationship, but if he told Jean - well. He didn't know. How she would feel about this.

There was movement behind him. More awareness than sound, and he  
turned, and Logan was there, unabashedly nude, one hand running through his black hair, which still fell into the same pattern when he quit.

"Cold feet?" The words were not a challenge. More of an understanding. " - 'm pushing, I know. Sorry. I got no right to act like that." He turned and Scott new that if he left, without any more words between them, this chance would never come again.

Maybe it was the hurt in the brown eyes, or the defeat he'd seen in those broad shoulders, earlier this night.

Or it could have been the way his body responded to those gruff words, parts of him aching that had never wanted to be touched before.

Something made him reach out. Grab Logan's shoulder and turn him around, pull him close, bend his neck to kiss him, the man significantly shorter than he but so clearly male.

This was different. A different kind of kiss. A different feeling.

Softer, yes, but not soft, like kissing a woman. Firm and hot, with the  
brush of unshaven skin to make it interesting. Logan tasted overwhelmingly of whiskey, but it wasn't unpleasant.

Big hands at his waist, fingers stroking restlessly, as if the man couldn't  
be still for a moment. And Scott knew very well that he could when he had to. 

He broke it off and looked down at Logan.

"This isn't wrong, is it?" Look who he was asking.

"Not ta me. She - she might think differently."

Different, yes. This man, this Logan, that stood so quietly in the circle of his arms, fingers stroking, stroking, and did not fight, did not protest or even try to take control of the situation.

A Logan that rather made Scott uncomfortable to consider.

"I think she would understand." And he was beginning to. To understand many things, things he had been blind to before. 

The pain Logan was in, the fear that drove him, and the conviction the man carried, that he would never be better than a barroom brawler, that he deserved no more, despite the good he had done.

Scott began to understand why the professor had sent him after Logan, and not someone else. 

"It's okay." He told the older man, taking a hand in his and leading him back to the bed. "I can give you what you need."

"Don't need anyone." Logan glared but it faltered after a moment of Scott's bland return. An advantage of the glasses; he always won staring  
contests.

"I know. But it's okay to want someone. It's okay to want to be close to someone." He pushed Logan gently and the man swayed, then lay back on the bed with a sigh, turning to his side and pillowing his head on one arm. "It's been a long time since you were close to someone, I know that now."

Logan looked back over his shoulder and answered with a touch of his  
usual attitude.

"Think you know everything, kid?"

"I know how to do this." Scott lay behind him and spooned close, pulling the blanket over them both. Logan stiffened and he slipped an arm around his waist. "I know that I can hold you and comfort you. You wouldn't have asked for it if you didn't need it."

"I don't need anything."

"Of course not." He was humoring him and Logan must have known, but let him get away with it. "But you want this." He slid his hand down and  
wrapped it around the heated erection. It was short and very thick, like Logan himself. The man moaned softly and began to move his hips, pushing into Scott's hand. "That's it - go with it." Scott encouraged. 

It was awkward to open the little bottle one handed, but he got the lid off and a bit poured onto his finger before reaching blindly behind himself to set it on the nightstand, which held a clock and a lamp and the remote control for the television. While Logan pumped slowly into his hand, Scott ran his gooey finger down the warm crease and stopped at the opening, touching it gently, and then with more force. He got the tip in without a problem and then Logan stiffened again, and Scott leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, the back of his neck.

"Relax, Logan. This is what you want, right?"

The words came back at him, hard and low.

"An' if it is? What willya say later, Cyclops? How much you gonna make me pay for this?"

They hit him in the gut and Scott sucked a breath slowly, no moving his hands, trying to spread the pain around.

"I'll never say one word." He promised, and wondered why. For Logan's sake or his own? Why was he doing this? Because he wanted it or because Logan needed it? Did it matter? "If that's the way you want it. Not one word, to anyone, ever. Not even you."

Because Logan needed it, he decided. And because he wanted it, for more reasons than he could count; because he never had, because he'd never felt this way with a woman, because he wanted to make Logan feel better, because somehow Logan had become important to him, the way the professor and Storm were important; someone to learn from, someone to count on, someone to fight with and fight beside.

"I want ta sleep, one night without dreams." Logan almost whispered it.

His body relaxed and Scott pulled him closer, as close as they could get, his arm mashed between them, finger sinking more deeply into him, slicked with the gel.

"Let me try to help." Scott whispered in his ear. Logan was shorter than Jean, too, which made his head come only to about Scott's shoulder in this position. "Let me - be nice to you - and then maybe you'll be able to sleep. I'll hold you, if you want, and no one will ever have to know."

"I'm s'possed ta trust you?" Logan twisted in his embrace, upper body turned so he could look into Scott's face.

"Yes." Scott surged up, looked down on him. "Trust me, Logan. I'll take care of you."

Logan stared at him for a minute and Scott's finger, camped in hot tightness, spasmed and the man seemed to remember what they were doing.

"Okay."

He lay back down and Scott put a few inches between them, his hand picking up the rhythm that made Logan moan, and he got the first finger worked all the way in and then the second. 

Last year he'd taught the boys sex education class while Jean taught the girls, and because Trade had been in the class Scott hadn't skipped over anything that might interest the homosexual boy as well as the straight ones. In addition to the health textbook he'd offered a selection of reading material, including The Joy of Sex and the Gay Joy of Sex, as well as the Kama Sutra and the gay version of it as well. Not because he wanted them trying those things out, but because he wanted them to be aware what could be done, and how other people had seen it, and how it worked into some societies and history.

He'd thought it was important to read the books too, so he'd be ready if they asked him any questions. They hadn't, though. Not many. He was too  
stuffy. And the books had both embarrassed and intrigued Jean, and led them to several nights of rather playful lovemaking.

Now he tried to remember more of what the gay sex books had said - to not stretch, because that led to tearing, but wait for the partner to relax enough that three fingers would fit without pain.

Well, Logan was taking one easily, so he pulled it out, got more gel, and tried with two. It was a tight fit, but the man moaned again, more deeply, and pushed back against him and Scott thought it was the most erotic thing he'd ever done, strange as that seemed.

He shuddered as he thought about what it would be like, to be inside this man, his heat and passion. Would Logan lose control? Would his claws come out? Was there any danger?

It didn't matter. He wasn't going to screw this up by talking too much.

This was what Logan needed and what he, Scott, wanted. Whatever happened, they would deal with it.

"Hurry." Logan grunted. "Been - too long."

Scott took that to mean that it had been too long since the man had sex and that he wasn't going to be able to hold off his orgasm much longer. He slowed his pumping hand and withdrew the two fingers, getting more gel and going back with three. At the first knuckle Logan started to squirm, and before they were all the way in he was panting and holding still.

"Am I hurting you?" Scott leaned forward to ask, worried.

"It'll heal. Don't worry about it, just do it."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Do it."

"Even if you can heal."

"Just do it."

"Logan -"

"Do it, Cyke."

With the growled instruction rumbling through his mind, Scott pulled out his fingers as carefully as he could and then fumbled for the bottle, his own need demanding satisfaction now. He upended it over his groin and belly, rubbing the gel all over, thinking that at least they had another bed to sleep in, though the maids weren't going to be happy about this. He was vaguely, briefly sorry that he was making work for someone who probably wasn't paid enough to put up with this sort of thing.

"Hurry up." Logan shifted in his embrace, his skin thick with sweat. He smelled strongly male. Not rank, but musky. Scott thought it was the way this man should smell. The body hair rubbed when Scott snugged himself closer to the broad, strong back, his cock seeking entrance where it was seldom granted.

It was hard, and he had to strain, hips clenched, the ring of muscle  
protecting its territory until Logan held his breath and hissed, and then the head popped through and Scott had to bite back a curse because it was so tight it was almost painful. Logan grunted and shuddered and Scott had to force himself to hold still and not thrust immediately, because he knew he was hurting the older man, and he didn't want to do that.

"Sorry!" He gasped, using both hands on Logan's hips to hold himself off, to keep some space between them. "Sor-"

"Do it." Logan groaned, it sounded like his teeth were clenched. He reached back a hand and grabbed at Scott's hip, fingers scrabbling for purchase before grabbing hard enough to leave bruises. "Please, kid, do it already. Fuck me."

Scott was already moving before Logan finished speaking. The relief was enormous, he felt the world rushing by him at lightspeed, his hips pistoning, slamming into Logan's ass far harder than he'd meant to.

"Fuck me hard." Logan whispered, and then he was hanging on for the ride. 

Scott had never felt anything like it. There were no words to describe it, only sensations; hot, tight, wet, hard, strong, basic.

It was very basic. Need and desire all tied together, from his cock to Logan's ass. His body to Logan's. Building to some cathartic climax.

"Logan!" He gasped, and found that words were hard to form, his brain was busy, occupied with other things. But this was important. "Logan!"

"Can't you do anything without talkin', kid?!" The man beneath him grunted, twisting backwards, and Scott suddenly knew that if this felt good there was something that would feel better. He stopped, with a lurch, holding Logan's hips still, and rolled them both forward, so that Logan was squashed on the bed beneath him and he was on top and Logan heaved up and forced Scott back to his knees, which was exactly where he needed to be, and with his hands on Logan's hips he fucked him, hard, steady thrusts in and out, pounding him while Logan grunted and growled and writhed on the end of his cock, his face pressed to the bed, head turned to one side, eyes wild.

Yes, oh God, yes, Scott chanted in his mind, and then realized he was  
saying it aloud and then he was shouting it.

"Yes, God, yes, this is amazing, you're amazing, Logan -!"

There was a movement of the broad shoulders and one of the hands on the bed vanished beneath them and then Logan bucked back into Scott's thrusts, hard, lifting him and Scott took that to mean 'fuck me harder' and so he did and then Logan was up on an elbow, his back curved, his hand pumping hard and Scott knew what he was doing and it was too much.

"Yes, oh yes, oh God yes!" He screamed as he came, his body tight and hard, the pleasure torn from him, though him. Seconds later, before he'd had a chance to breathe, he felt the passage clamp around his sensitized cock and knew that Logan was coming, because the man moaned so deeply, as if his heart were being ripped from his chest, and he let his face drop to the bed and beat the mattress with his free hand and then, quite suddenly, went limp.

"Logan?" Scott's mouth was thick, he could barely form the name. "Logan?" Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did you pass out?" He wanted to ask these things, and others, but his mouth wouldn't make the words and his body was rapidly losing the war with sleep.

"Th-" 

Scott rolled them back to their sides and thought that they should get  
into the dry, clean bed. His hand skidded through a puddle of thick warmth that he knew was Logan's come. The other man wasn't having any more luck forming words than Scott was.

"Thank you." It was a harsh whisper, and he clenched the man hard, hugging him with all his strength, knowing he wouldn't hurt him.

"No, thank you. Thank you for sharing that with me, for letting me help you. Thank you, Logan."

"Was good." Logan muttered. Scott kissed the side of his face, bristles damp with sweat, and then kissed the side of his neck.

"Better than good. Incredible." He chuckled weakly. "I bet you can sleep now."

"Wake up stuck to the sheets."

"I can fix that." 

With a lurch Scott gained his feet, fighting to lift Logan, who was smaller but heavier, and managed to stagger them both to the second bed and get them covered. Logan even helped with the last bit.

Then they lay still. Somewhere in the movements Scott's cock had slipped free. He felt worn out. Exhausted. 

Logan had to be feeling the same, and sore to boot. Scott spooned behind him again and wrapped an arm around the muscled waist and held him close. Logan sighed, and snuffled, dropped a kiss to the arm, and fell instantly to sleep, as far as Scott could tell.

The X-Man wasn't far behind. He just had enough coherent thought capability left to wonder if Jean had felt any of that, as far apart as they were, and to hope otherwise.

If she had, though, he was sure she would understand.


End file.
